Wy’east lies dormant,
a Cascadian jewel.
Her fingers grasp the Trail.
Brothers to the north,
Sisters to the south,
atop a fault now frail.
Shining in the twilight,
shadows lean and leer,
at her blush of bare repose.
Her triggered temblor,
her wrath erupting,
onto Willamette greens below.
Anonymole - apocryphal agitators 